


Save the Last Dance for Me

by The Hunters Angel (ToriCeratops)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Destiel - Freeform, Feelings, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Satin Panties, Smut, Strip Tease, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/The%20Hunters%20Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is patient.  Dean is drunk.<br/>Drunk Dean likes to show off his pipes and the sway of his hips until Cas can't hold onto his patience any longer.</p><p> </p><p>Set after 8x21 and slightly AU from there as if 8x22 didn't happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save the Last Dance for Me

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt at tumblr : Dean giving Cas a striptease in lace underthings. All nasty, hot desperate sex.  
> I'm not sure it's nasty enough, but the desperation is a winner.

The silence of the bunker is broken by a loud crash.

Cas sets his book on Dean's night stand and looks up. Patiently, he waits for what he knows must be coming.

It's been weeks – weeks since he returned to the Winchesters, weeks since he first tried to apologize, weeks since Dean looked at him with anything but shattered betrayal behind his bright green eyes. Cas had tried so many times and so many different ways to say and to show he was sorry and every time Dean just shut him out.

Which was fair. Cas believes he deserves so much worse.

But he can't let go.

He won't.

So he waits.

Another bang comes from beyond the door. Cas sits at the head of Dean's bed – coat and jacket tossed over a chair, tie loose around his neck. He curls his bare toes into he blanket when one last thud rings through the building, closer this time, and followed by a curse. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, Cas prepares himself for a drunken tirade. The door opens slowly and Cas can feel his muscles tensing with every creak of the hinges.

“Hey Sexy!”

Cas pops his eyes open in shock.

Forget weeks. Forget months. It has been years since Dean addressed him like _that._ Years since filthy words poured from the lips of lovers between sheets in stolen moments together. “Dean. You are well beyond your usual level of intoxicated.”

Dean has a lopsided grin on his face. “No shit.”

He starts to move around the room, his hips swaying to song Cas can not hear. Despite his inebriated state, his movements are somehow graceful, fluid and seemingly purposeful. When he starts humming he gets his shoulders and chest into it too – rolling and rocking his waist like it is what he was born to do.

“Oh, I know that the music's fine like sparkling wine go ahead and have your fun.” Dean's voice is deep as he starts to sing, the gravel in his tone making the words sound seductive. His movements bring him closer to the bed while Cas shifts so he is sitting on the edge. “Laugh and sing but while we're apart don't you give your heart to anyone.” As the words are sung he moves his hands slowly down his chest, picking the buttons of his shirt undone one by one.

Cas' gaze is mesmerized. Dean's fingers are so nimble and so sure and steady. With every move of his hand more and more tanned skin is exposed. Cas bites his bottom lip and slides his own hands beneath his legs to keep from reaching out to touch, unsure if he is allowed no matter how much every inch of his body aches for it.

“Dean...” he tries to interrupt but is shushed by a single finger pressed firmly against his lips.

Dean continues to hum the tune he is dancing to, his entire body towering over Cas while he moves, slipping out of his shirt in an easy rhythm. Cas can feel his heart trying to burst through his chest when Dean bends low at his knees, running his hands down Cas' thigh and back up before reaching for his own waist line.

“And don't forget who's taking you home...” the top of his pants are open now, hanging just enough to reveal just a peek of the green satin panties beneath. Cas gasps, over whelmed with sensory memories. Memories of the feel of soft fabric against his own skin, the smell of whiskey, gun oil, and leather, the taste of Dean – all of Dean. No longer able or willing to hold back he reaches for Dean's sides, gliding his hands down smooth, hard muscled skin to help push the man's jeans down further.

Dean finally leans forward, crawling onto the bed, knees on either side of Cas while he slowly tugs at the angels tie. “...and in whose arms you're gonna be...” each word is quieter, more and more intimate, meant just for Cas. Dean hasn't stopped rolling his hips and in the new position is making contact with as achingly hard cock through far too many layers of clothing.

“Dean..” he breathes out the man's name in desperation, fingers curling along Dean's back.

Dean doesn’t change anything. He continues to rock to his humming, dragging the tip of his nose up the side of Cas' neck.

“So darling...”

Cas' spine curls and he whines when he feels chapped lips pressed against his skin

“...save the last...”

Teeth graze against the ridge of his ear and he just grips on tighter.

“...dance..”

Dean finally pulls back enough to make eye contact. The silly grin from earlier is gone, replaced by a solemn mixture of sorrow and need. Their lips barely brush past one another, Dean's breath warm and intoxicating against Cas.

“...for me.”

The damn breaks and they clash together in a sloppy, needy kiss – lips and tongue and teeth and hands everywhere. Dean whines into it while Cas growls, doing everything he can to bring their bodies closer. Above him, Dean continues rocking, rutting his hips down and when Cas steals a glance he can already see a wet spot forming on the bright green satin. They make quick work of Cas' shirt and Dean leans down until Cas is laying against the bed and Dean has easy access to start kissing and biting and sucking along his bare neck and collar.

“I hate you.” Dean growls between sensitive spots on Cas' flesh. Despite how tight with raw need his body is wound, Cas feels his chest jerk. He blinks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath.

“I know.” His fingers are tangled in Dean's hair, tugging him up, whole body aching to return to the kiss.

Dean's lips are trembling. “I hate how much I need you, how you make me feel like I could never ever let you go.” He's stopped moving for the first time, hovering above Cas, obviously biting back from saying more, one hand cupping the angels face.

“Dean...” Cas sees the ache behind his eyes and shakes his head. “I'm so sor...”

“Shut up.” Dean interrupts him and they're kissing again, needier than last time if that is even possible. Their lips glide together while their hands and bodies pick up the pace, working on Cas' pants until his cock can be pulled free. He gasps when Dean wraps strong, callused fingers around him and starts to stroke. Cas lifts his hips up into his touch, groaning with how it makes his body react, leaking precome onto Dean's hand. It's been too long and he's far too close, but he knows what he wants. He knows what Dean needs.

In this, at least, he is absolutely certain.

Cas grabs Dean by the shoulders and easily lifts him turning them both over so their positions are reversed, ridding himself of the rest of his clothes and Dean of his jeans in the process.

When Dean reaches for his underwear – the last thing separating the two men – Cas gently grabs his hand, guiding it back up so he can pin it to the bed above Dean's head. Dean grunts in frustration but Cas just chuckles, lowering his voice and speaking with his lips brushing against Dean's ear.

“Don't. Touch.”

He never knows if its his words, his voice, his power over Dean or just everything all at once but the man in his arms melts. Dean arches his back and bares his neck. “Please Cas. Just fuck me. Right now.” Every ragged breath he takes Dean rocks his hips up, spreading his legs wider.

Next time, or perhaps the time after that, Cas will make him beg – properly beg. Or maybe Dean will bind Cas' hands together with his tie and do the same for him. They will ride one another, say filthy, loving things to one another. They will come together in a hundred different ways, in a dozen different mess of emotions. But they have time for all of that. They have plenty of time.

God himself could not pull Castiel from Dean's side.

Not now.

Not ever again.

Dean doesn't even protest or call him out for cheating when Cas suddenly has a bottle in his hand from seemingly no where. They are both moving together too much, too desperate, too ready for release to care or even worry about anything but staying contact. Dean's panties are so thoroughly soaked it clings around his cock, the fabric half see through. Cas runs his thumb down the vein along Dean's length, the motion making it so just the head is pulled free from the confines of the fabric – red and swollen and leaking beautifully. When he slips to slick fingers beneath the fabric, pressing against Dean's entrance with a gentle but firm touch, he captures the gasp from his lips with a kiss. Fro Dean's part the kiss is sloppy, broken and uncoordinated as he becomes an absolute mess beneath the slide of Cas' fingers With every stretch and every pull Dean writhes harder until he is gasping for breath.

“Cas! Cas please. I...”

Cas knows he can't say it, won't say it – is probably hating himself for thinking it.

So he kisses his neck, soft and gentle, while he slips his fingers free and pushes the green satin further out of the way, lining himself up.

With their first slide together, Dean's warmth taking in all of Cas so perfectly, they make eye contact and the world around them drags to a halt. Nothing in heaven or hell or all the forsaken places in-between exists but them – their breaths coming together their bodies moving and rocking as one. For Cas, eons of his life and who he was before are momentarily forgotten and entirely irrelevant because of Dean, because he has Dean, needs him, wants him.

It's all an overwhelming rush that takes them both to the edge far sooner than they want, but they will take all the same.

Blue eyes are locked with green until the very last moment, when Dean can not possibly keep his eyes open any longer. He throws his head back in primal pleasure. He's silent as he comes between them, long warm strands of cum spilling on not just his own stomach but Cas' as well.

Cas drops his head into the crook of Dean's neck, moaning out his name as he follows him over the edge before Dean is even completely spent. His back is sore and he knows its covered in red lines from where Dean had been clinging to him. He slumps forward, warm and sated and catching his breath along with Dean. Neither move for several minutes, holding on to one another for dear life. Cas doesn't dare move first.

“Cas.”

He can feel Dean's voice more than hear it, a low rumble through his chest that reverberates through his own. It's tired and worn and cracked from the length of the day and needy sex. “Hm?”

With a groan, Dean shifts, rolling them over so their both on their sides and he can wrap a leg firmly around Cas' hips while he pulls him in tight, both men adjusting until they find a comfortable position.

“Stay.”

He isn't forgiven, he knows this, but he smiles all the same and gently presses his lips to Dean's forehead. In a messed up, twisted way they both need each other, more than before and different from anyone else in their lives. They have so much to do, so much to say, so much to admit to one another.

So Cas stays - wrapped up and folded into Dean's arms, into his life, into his everything – for as long as Dean will have him.


End file.
